My recent consistency in doing housework has yet to attain recognition from a very important individual nor attract offers for help from another very important individual. I admit that I am not usually in the best of moods once I proceed to Kao MagicClean immediately after getting home, and more often than not I find myself swearing at the floor (literally). But my mantra helps: I do this because I love my family, so keep my complains to myself and the 4 walls.
My recent venture into a vocation which requires a high degree of love for reading and writing has since compelled me to treat seriously, another label for this blog, 'Book'. I will not be doing a book review for every single book I pick up. In fact, I might just try to avoid doing reviews for all of them. But what I would write about is how the books I read affect me.
So what has Ayako Miura's 'Shiokari Pass' done? I admit I was so tempted to slot it back into the book drop after getting to the 2nd chapter. I was turned off by the simplistic style of translation which made me wonder if I had actually picked up one of those children's stories, if you could actually call them that, which do not actually have a plot line for you to follow but instead are garbled text which slap moralizations of every situation upon its reader. Then somehow, my habit of sneaking snippets from the ending did me good, and my desire to get to the lead up to the train accident kept me ploughing through each line. Thank God for that, I have now cleared the premises and am at the portion of the novel where the story line picks up and I am actually starting to draw my own debates over the conversations between Nobuo and Yoshikawa.
Oh the beauty of reading. Reading, writing and speaking - indispensable activities required when one wants to grasp a language. I may have said this before but the English Language is rife with imperfections because it is so impreciese. But this is what makes it beautiful, since writers have the privilege of surfing through a sea of vocabulary before choosing the right words, and take so many different angles in interpreting a text.
That being said, while I am still on the way towards mastering the English Language (right now I say the word 'mastering' with caution. I am not sure if anyone can actually fully grasp every nuance of a language, and I don't know if I would ever come close to being proficient, and not just fluent (I hope I am now) in it), I am being put to shame by a dear friend of mine who has started on a 4th language.
Note to self: Make haste!
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Saturday, May 23, 2009
'The Ugly Version Of'
Work has been great to say the least. I never knew that I could learn so much from children, and learn to love children so much. And I am very thankful for the gracious working environment that God has placed me in, though I must really gripe about the quality of food produced by the canteen. Surely, being in a tertiary institution has exposed me to higher standards of food and beverage, but surely the despairity cannot be that big! I was actually rather appalled by the scalding mound of dumpling noodles presented to me today, and I sincerely hope for better morsels for these children.
Anyway, I am currently in the midst of writing articles, managing this new piece of work, working through a novel, and trying my best to keep up with a good fitness routine. I have to admit that one of these assignments is exhausting me out now, and hence I've decided to work on it tomorrow and do some blogging before I indulge in the art of reading what people write instead of writing myself.
So, may the blog begin to roll.
My inability to accept with grace, the phrase 'the ugly version of', has oftened resulted in me suffering contagiously moody days. On certain occasions, I have been labeled rather unfairly at my reaction - a consequence of feeling upset that I have been called 'the ugly version of' someone. Eeks!
You, I am still curious as to why you called me 'superficial' at being upset when you and Her told Him that he 'won't believe how hot her (referring to me) sister is cause Tessa is so ugly'. Yes You, you who would probably embrace Christianity if it were packaged with a cunt and what you deem 'hot' feature. Throw it into an oversized shirt and short denim shorts at that and you'd probably become an evangelical.
Hence, I tend to find myself disgusted at that phrase, regardless of usage.
However, a recent journey with my Mizuno shoes has given this phrase an interesting spin. After a year and more of running with my New Balance Shoes, I almost completely forgot the existence of my Mizuno Wave.
I have to admit that I never gave much thought to the latter, considering how it made its rather abrupt entry into my life. I had just purchased the New Balance one Monday morning only for Mum to hand me brochures raving on the new technology behind the Mizuno Wave Creation. I did not take too kindly to the design though. My New Balance were nothing to boast about, but I simply was not drawn to a shoe constructed from a block of white with streaks of colours that looked rather garish at certain angles.
Mum bought it anyway. And I avoided it at all costs, leaving it in its thin wrapping and blue box.
Until recently, when the New Balance had to be washed and the only other way to pound the treadmill was to don the Mizuno. I was skeptical as I stepped on board but moved my feet according to the usual rhythm anyway. Nothing different. As I picked up the pace, the difference became more pronounced. I could actually feel the road beneath me. It was as if my feet and shoe were in some form of synchrony. And I ran, and ran and ran, further than before.
Now I know I could have turned the above post into something more descriptive and emotional. But I know, even as an amateur runner, I have many more steps to run with this pair, more colourful journeys worth documenting even in pictures.
And yes, some day the Mizuno would have to go, and who knows what might replace it.
But for now I'm just happy that my 'uglier version of' shoes actually ran a further distance with me.
Anyway, I am currently in the midst of writing articles, managing this new piece of work, working through a novel, and trying my best to keep up with a good fitness routine. I have to admit that one of these assignments is exhausting me out now, and hence I've decided to work on it tomorrow and do some blogging before I indulge in the art of reading what people write instead of writing myself.
So, may the blog begin to roll.
My inability to accept with grace, the phrase 'the ugly version of', has oftened resulted in me suffering contagiously moody days. On certain occasions, I have been labeled rather unfairly at my reaction - a consequence of feeling upset that I have been called 'the ugly version of' someone. Eeks!
You, I am still curious as to why you called me 'superficial' at being upset when you and Her told Him that he 'won't believe how hot her (referring to me) sister is cause Tessa is so ugly'. Yes You, you who would probably embrace Christianity if it were packaged with a cunt and what you deem 'hot' feature. Throw it into an oversized shirt and short denim shorts at that and you'd probably become an evangelical.
Hence, I tend to find myself disgusted at that phrase, regardless of usage.
However, a recent journey with my Mizuno shoes has given this phrase an interesting spin. After a year and more of running with my New Balance Shoes, I almost completely forgot the existence of my Mizuno Wave.
I have to admit that I never gave much thought to the latter, considering how it made its rather abrupt entry into my life. I had just purchased the New Balance one Monday morning only for Mum to hand me brochures raving on the new technology behind the Mizuno Wave Creation. I did not take too kindly to the design though. My New Balance were nothing to boast about, but I simply was not drawn to a shoe constructed from a block of white with streaks of colours that looked rather garish at certain angles.
Mum bought it anyway. And I avoided it at all costs, leaving it in its thin wrapping and blue box.
Until recently, when the New Balance had to be washed and the only other way to pound the treadmill was to don the Mizuno. I was skeptical as I stepped on board but moved my feet according to the usual rhythm anyway. Nothing different. As I picked up the pace, the difference became more pronounced. I could actually feel the road beneath me. It was as if my feet and shoe were in some form of synchrony. And I ran, and ran and ran, further than before.
Now I know I could have turned the above post into something more descriptive and emotional. But I know, even as an amateur runner, I have many more steps to run with this pair, more colourful journeys worth documenting even in pictures.
And yes, some day the Mizuno would have to go, and who knows what might replace it.
But for now I'm just happy that my 'uglier version of' shoes actually ran a further distance with me.
Friday, May 22, 2009
Just Desserts
It has come out at last. And generally, I only have myself to blame.
It is of my own doing that I am stuck in this predicament. I am standing atop of this pedestal which has been erected in a midst of darkness. I cannot see beyond the mere column of light which is beaming down on the pedestal. Only my body is illuminated. This column is so rigid such that if I were to stretch out my hands to my sides the portions beyond the elbow would be visually chopped. And I want to step forward, but I don't know if there would be another pedestal right beside for me to place my foot. Or even if the pedestal is there, I don't know if it is near enough.
It is of my own doing that I am stuck in this predicament. I am standing atop of this pedestal which has been erected in a midst of darkness. I cannot see beyond the mere column of light which is beaming down on the pedestal. Only my body is illuminated. This column is so rigid such that if I were to stretch out my hands to my sides the portions beyond the elbow would be visually chopped. And I want to step forward, but I don't know if there would be another pedestal right beside for me to place my foot. Or even if the pedestal is there, I don't know if it is near enough.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Reactions
Here are a few conversations I had. They are real. All begin with the subjects annotated by the numerals speaking first.
1. With a student pursuing a double degree in engineering and economics:
'What subjects did you do in JC?'
'Hm, KI, Math, Econs, Lit, Music'
'SO YOU DIDN"T DO ANY SCIENCE SUBJECT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
'Nope I didn't. And amazingly, the world didn't come to an end!'
2. With a student pursuing a degree in chemical engineering.
'So you're an english major?'
'Yes'
'Oh. It must be very challenging.'
'Yes it is.'
3. With a student pursuing a degree in life science.
'So your degree is a direct-honours one.'
'Yes.'
'Then what do you do for honours?'
'A research thesis'
'Why do you need to do research in Arts? Its not like you can help anything if you do'
'Research in the Arts is a very fulfilling field. For one we can analyze how 'elitists' and the 'self-serving bias' works.
4. With a student pursuing a degree in material science engineering.
'So as an English Major do you need to study any science'
'We do need to do cross-faculty modules'
'Oh my goodness. This is so fucked up. You don't know what you are fucking missing.'
5. With a computer science student.
'I always admired people who can write well.'
'Do you find me very stupid because I study Arts and not Science?'
'Nope. Stupidity has nothing to do with arts and science.'
Ok I lied about some of them.
1. With a student pursuing a double degree in engineering and economics:
'What subjects did you do in JC?'
'Hm, KI, Math, Econs, Lit, Music'
'SO YOU DIDN"T DO ANY SCIENCE SUBJECT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
'Nope I didn't. And amazingly, the world didn't come to an end!'
2. With a student pursuing a degree in chemical engineering.
'So you're an english major?'
'Yes'
'Oh. It must be very challenging.'
'Yes it is.'
3. With a student pursuing a degree in life science.
'So your degree is a direct-honours one.'
'Yes.'
'Then what do you do for honours?'
'A research thesis'
'Why do you need to do research in Arts? Its not like you can help anything if you do'
'Research in the Arts is a very fulfilling field. For one we can analyze how 'elitists' and the 'self-serving bias' works.
4. With a student pursuing a degree in material science engineering.
'So as an English Major do you need to study any science'
'We do need to do cross-faculty modules'
'Oh my goodness. This is so fucked up. You don't know what you are fucking missing.'
5. With a computer science student.
'I always admired people who can write well.'
'Do you find me very stupid because I study Arts and not Science?'
'Nope. Stupidity has nothing to do with arts and science.'
Ok I lied about some of them.
Friday, May 15, 2009
The Enemy
知人知敌，百战百胜
I must have mentioned before how much the mere mention of a cliche conjures that sticky cloying feeling that is oh so unpleasant. But yet I love them because they are so true.
So here's another one, this time about knowing your enemy in order to win every battle, and I am my biggest enemy.
Even as my body pounds the treadmill, with each step, the resistance comes from nothing but itself. The horrendous burning from the lactic acid, the dehydration that makes the whole nasal cavity feel like a portion of the Sahara, are just some of the obstacles that I give myself, from myself, to fight with myself.
Reading books on running has helped me put this cliche into perspective. I have to know my body, in order to run effectively. And to know my body requires that I listen to it. As much as I struggle with inertia on those days when I just want to sit down in front of some electronic device and subconsciously build hoardes of cellulite, it becomes equally difficult to stop running once the momentum has kicked in and the adrenaline is coarsing through my veins.
And that's how injuries surface. I have been blessed to be free from joint injuries or muscle tears (so far), and although this could be simply because I have yet to reach the point of a competent runner, I take comfort in the fact that maybe, it is also because I have been listening to my body.
I can accept, rather easily, that rest is as crucial as working hard, and hence try as much as possible to rest when I need to. Of course the ugly past rears here, where, being the obese and unhealthy tween, I often tried to make up for my lack of physical activity with marathons on the desk. Needless to say, falling asleep at the desk was an everyday affair, and the stern mockings from my family members who caught me in the act still resonates even today. Having been conditioned in an environment where sleeping was seen as a sign of weakness rendered those moments even more humiliating, which is shy I never returned the favour then, and hardly ever do so now (if it happens).
Now I am glad that as I run, I listen to my favourite tunes, and also to my body.
I must have mentioned before how much the mere mention of a cliche conjures that sticky cloying feeling that is oh so unpleasant. But yet I love them because they are so true.
So here's another one, this time about knowing your enemy in order to win every battle, and I am my biggest enemy.
Even as my body pounds the treadmill, with each step, the resistance comes from nothing but itself. The horrendous burning from the lactic acid, the dehydration that makes the whole nasal cavity feel like a portion of the Sahara, are just some of the obstacles that I give myself, from myself, to fight with myself.
Reading books on running has helped me put this cliche into perspective. I have to know my body, in order to run effectively. And to know my body requires that I listen to it. As much as I struggle with inertia on those days when I just want to sit down in front of some electronic device and subconsciously build hoardes of cellulite, it becomes equally difficult to stop running once the momentum has kicked in and the adrenaline is coarsing through my veins.
And that's how injuries surface. I have been blessed to be free from joint injuries or muscle tears (so far), and although this could be simply because I have yet to reach the point of a competent runner, I take comfort in the fact that maybe, it is also because I have been listening to my body.
I can accept, rather easily, that rest is as crucial as working hard, and hence try as much as possible to rest when I need to. Of course the ugly past rears here, where, being the obese and unhealthy tween, I often tried to make up for my lack of physical activity with marathons on the desk. Needless to say, falling asleep at the desk was an everyday affair, and the stern mockings from my family members who caught me in the act still resonates even today. Having been conditioned in an environment where sleeping was seen as a sign of weakness rendered those moments even more humiliating, which is shy I never returned the favour then, and hardly ever do so now (if it happens).
Now I am glad that as I run, I listen to my favourite tunes, and also to my body.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Random Rambler's Rambling Ramble
I wonder if entitling this blog 'real random ramble' has inevitably brought about some curse upon my writing. I have been unable to trace any semblance of structure in my posts, and within the text itself. So, following the nature of all things random, here goes :
A morbidly beautiful image of a cat which has breathed its last not too long ago. Its eyes like porcelain balls, were fixed in a stare so cold. And it did not even move from its pose.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
I Listen as I Run
Even before I write about what I intend to, I have to admit that a certain blogging protoccol has been nagging at me to blog about my perfect birthday celebration and the very thoughtful presents I received. Its almost like an invisible yoke that has been shadowing me for everyday since the 6th of May, and here I say 'shadowing' simply because this yoke has only nagged at, but has yet to compel me into actually writing about it. Maybe it is mere procrastination that has left the tons of related photographs unlabelled, collecting some virtual dust in my 'MOB' folder. But somehow, I believe the real reason is that my 20th birthday has been so perfect that I want to fossilize it in my intangible memories. For some reason, writing a chunk of text about it and pasting pictures all over seems to dilute the preciousness of those moments as it is now open for the world to access. Notice I did not say 'see'. I do not have a traffic counter on my blog but I am still sufficiently aware of the number of passers-by and readers.Anyway, back to the topic. This was probably triggered by my recent birthday gift of 'What I talk about when I talk about running' by Murakami, as well the short and simple book 'Running Fit' which I borrowed to complement my Murakami read. I have recently taken an interest in sports, particularly running. This may be extremely difficult to believe considering I used to lead an almost sedentary lifestyle as a child (yes, I reversed time in this sense), and any attempt to walk around the reservoir then was often met with wide opened mouths and arched eyebrows.
So while I have yet to take part in a marathon, or a half-marathon at that, I must say that I do enjoy my sessions in the pool, at the gym, and most of all on the treadmill or in West Coast Park. True enough, when I run, I take myself to a different place. I actually spend more time, on the treadmill, allowing my mind to drift in and out of different realms. And this dreamer of a time has probably prevented me from improving my timing or distance as fast as I should have, but hey, I do not enjoy running so much as for a competition's sake, rather than just immersing myself in the adrenaline with each step.
Yet, despite my drifting, I seldom run 'alone'. Occasionally, when a partner comes along, then I switch to 'competitor' mode, or sometimes 'chaser', when my partner has the inevitable duty of letting me chase after him/her. Then again, I am not really 'alone' even without a partner, being accompanied by music. It is very rare that I run without music when I do not have a physical partner, as if the act of running is somehow synonymous with listening to music.
But music, when I run, does not function as a motivation mechanism of sorts. I know many runners blast rock, hip-hop, rap as they run just so they can match their pace to the beat. But I don't. In fact, I do have some 'slow' songs on my 'working out' playlist. I actually take a lot of time to select which part of my playlist to start, such that I can spend up to 1minute actually walking on the treadmill first as I sift through. Usually, when I select a song to start with, I will stick to that song for many other workout sessions. But, when I feel the need to change, I repeat the 1 minute treadmill routine again. Recently I have been starting with Scandal's 'Doll', then I occasionally skip 'Orion Once Again', but somehow I never miss Larc's 'Honey'. And I usually finish with 'Still Doll'.
I cannot pin a relation between the songs I listen to and my exercise routine. Try as I might, I have never been able to pin the crunches with 'Enter Sandman' or the different stages of incline with any particular song or artist. In fact, I do recall to repeating 'Still Doll' at least thrice, consecutively at that, as I ran.
Maybe its because my running time is the best time for me to listen to music. My driftings away from the rhythmic pounding somehow let me pay better attention to the voices, the different instrumental parts, the lyrics at that.
Oh how I love to listen as I run.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
The Emo Cycle
Several things I realized/have been reiterated to me, much to my utmost chagrin!
1. Prolonged bouts of Emoness are equivalent to narcissism.
2. Sometimes, stereotypes - in particular those pertaining to schools in SG - become stereotypes only because they are so true that there is no other way to call them!
3. 2's a company, 3's a crowd. This is yet another stereotype, which hey!, is so darn true.
4. One of the most subtle, yet strongest ways, to put someone down, is to attribute everything they've worked for to 'luck'.
So, since emoness is way more contagious than SARS or any H1N1 strain of sorts, we need stronger antidotes!
(And I know it'd make an abrupt ending to close this entry like this. And I do know what else I can write, but I have no impulse to start typing about them. So this is it)
1. Prolonged bouts of Emoness are equivalent to narcissism.
2. Sometimes, stereotypes - in particular those pertaining to schools in SG - become stereotypes only because they are so true that there is no other way to call them!
3. 2's a company, 3's a crowd. This is yet another stereotype, which hey!, is so darn true.
4. One of the most subtle, yet strongest ways, to put someone down, is to attribute everything they've worked for to 'luck'.
So, since emoness is way more contagious than SARS or any H1N1 strain of sorts, we need stronger antidotes!
(And I know it'd make an abrupt ending to close this entry like this. And I do know what else I can write, but I have no impulse to start typing about them. So this is it)
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